Part 18 (1/2)
”I have another copy.” Nate directed this comment to Sam. ”Maybe we should fax it over to Stan Eisley. Morgan said he's our liaison with law enforcement now.”
Lawyered up, just like suspects. Must be enough attorneys in that firm to go around for this group. She watched Sam's facial muscles tighten and then release into an indulgent smile. ”That's right,” he said as he propelled Nate out of the room.
”Why didn't you--” The closing door cut off the balance of Sam's question.
”Just fax it to Stan in the first place?” Rae filled in the logical. Why hand this information off to her? To make sure Sam knew that she had received it? Was the Sam and Nate connection not so solid after all? Did stuff that went to Stan Eisley disappear down the attorney-client privilege hole never to surface again? What kind of motive would prompt Nate to derail his own camp's legal strategy?
She pushed in Veronica's office number and got her voicemail. She cut off without leaving a message and tried her cell. Another voicemail. This time Rae left a message.
Rae forced her mind away from the Reggie connection and focused on Bayfield's operations account disburs.e.m.e.nt ledger. The item she reviewed led her to the three-ring binder that held the check stubs for the account, an old-fas.h.i.+oned, three-to-a-page checkbook. The first stub was blank except for the printed word void across it. Two distinct, old-school penmans.h.i.+p samples jumped out at her from the next two check stubs. The one immediately preceding Kevin's was made out to Fredricka Halperin, but in a different hand than on Kevin's. Both were dated April 25th.
Rae dialed Fredricka on the old-style black rotary phone on the table. Fredricka answered promptly.
”Could I speak to you a minute, Fredricka?”
A huffy snort. ”Speak.”
”I mean in here, if you don't mind.”
”I'm just going to lunch.”
”It'll only take a minute.”
On second thought, Rae realized that the content of any conversation she had with Fredricka would be pa.s.sed on to Sam. What the h.e.l.l. She still wanted this conversation held face-to-face.
”What is it?” Freddie burst into the room and stood tapping a blue Croc impatiently.
Rae directed her attention to the check stub binder. ”Could you tell me whose writing this is?”
Fredricka positioned reading gla.s.ses that hung from a chain around her neck, then peered at the page.
”Sam wrote the one to Kevin. The other one is mine.”
”It's made out in your name.”
Resentment flared, matching the hair. ”Of course it is. I always prepare my own paycheck. Then Sam signs it. Always on the night before payday. It's how we've always done it.”
”But I thought you weren't at work on April 25th.”
Freddie's head jerked up from the page of checks. ”How do you know that?”
”It's what you told Detective Sanchez. Mr. Garvin gave you the afternoon off. That's what she understood you to say. That's why you didn't see Kevin come in for his check.”
”That's right,” replied Freddie, still showing traces of fl.u.s.ter, chip firmly planted on shoulder.
Rae tried unsuccessfully to make eye contact.
”Did you write your check in the morning before you left?”
”No. I...” Freddie's eyes rolled upward as if she was trying to remember. ”I didn't know in the morning that I was getting half a day off.”
”So you wrote your paycheck when?”
”The next day. I must've written it the next morning.”
”That would have been a Sat.u.r.day.”
”No. I never work weekends.”
”Monday, then?”
The implication of her check preceding Kevin's must've hit her. Freddie's face took on the hue of her hair. ”Look, you're confusing me. I've got low blood sugar. I need to eat some protein to clear my head.” She bolted for the door like the devil was after her. Rae could well imagine that as a possibility.
When Freddie was gone, Rae scanned the relevant pages of the check book into her laptop, wondering what the h.e.l.l that was all about. Was Freddie in the office all day on April 25th or what? Could Veronica have misunderstood? No way. Not Miss Precision.
As if on cue, Rae's cell erupted in the first bars of The William Tell Overture-a nice touch Rae had added upon the a.s.sumption of her new duties. Veronica's number appeared in the caller ID box.
Chapter 34.
Veronica's voice had an edge to it. ”I want you to meet me at the station.”
”What's up?”
”I'll tell you when you get here.”
”I'm in the middle of something.”
”Anything earth-shaking?”
”I'm not sure. May be nothing, but--”
”Better drop it and head this way. You'll want to see this.”
The tape. What else? Rae was both surprised and eager. She'd been afraid that she'd never see the infamous interview, but what else could Veronica mean?
”I'm on my way.”
Rae bundled up her stuff and hurried down the hall toward the front entrance. Sam's door was closed, and she could hear the faint hum of voices emanating from within.
Then she remembered the computers still in her car and knocked on Sam's door.
Nate opened it. ”We don't have much time.” Sam rose from behind his desk. ”Kevin's funeral is today. We need to leave shortly. I'm sure Fredricka--”
”I have to leave, too. And Fredricka just went to lunch.” Rae watched the men's faces for reaction, discerned none. ”If you gentlemen will please follow me, we can get your computers out of my car first.” Rae's eyes lingered on Nate Farris. When she looked at him now, she thought of p.o.r.no sites.
Nate smiled at her-a big, fat, phony smile-obviously not a mind-reader. He and Sam trooped after her to retrieve the machines. Sam signed for them.